


he makes you see how the world could be (in spite of the way that it is)

by SunsetOfDoom



Series: never had a sidekick before [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alien Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Corso Did Not Want To Know He Was Into This, Drug Use, Easy Introduction to OC, Face Slapping, Feelings Realization, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Sub-Drop, Mutual Pining, Nautolans Have Weird Biology And I Will Die On This Hill, PWP (Porn with Pining), Repressed Idiots Fall In Love And Take Six Months To Realize, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetOfDoom/pseuds/SunsetOfDoom
Summary: Corso expected that running around with the Captain would get him shot, once in a while. He didn't bargain on ending up high on a truckload of painkillers, leaned up against a wall through which he could hear his Captain.... negotiating.... with Darmas.Teo just wanted to have sex with a guy without his farmboy second-mate judging him. He didn't want all these...feelings.
Relationships: Corso Riggs/Male Smuggler, Corso Riggs/Smuggler, Darmas Pollaran/Smuggler, Smuggler/Smuggler's Ship
Series: never had a sidekick before [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129304
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Obvious Choice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855978) by [Wallwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker). 



> Many thanks to [November](https://verbose-vespertine.tumblr.com/) and [Spoops](https://miss-spooky-eyes.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing, encouragement, and blatant pornographic enjoyment. SPECIAL thanks to November, who did Teo's character design before I unrepentantly stole him.
> 
> I try so hard to believe, in my heart of hearts, that Everyone Is Bi And Gender Isn't Real In Space, and SWTOR comes swinging for those ideas with a baseball bat every ten minutes. The Smuggler storyline is particularly bad- can we stop being sexist and heteronormative for TEN MINUTES, guys???
> 
> So I read Wallwalker's lovely M!Smuggler/Corso fic and immediately decided that I was going to make this storyline- and this love interest- less garbage by adding pining and internalized homophobia and emotional repression.

Corso faded in and out of the briefing.

It was the lights. The lights of the cantina were bright, and pretty, and they were all swimming ‘cause of those painkillers Risha found for him. Darmas talked long and flowery like he always did, and Corso’s vision swam as he watched the lights and his leg pounded, over and over, with dull pain.

Staring at blinking neon might make him go blind eventually, but it was a helluva lot better than gawking at the poor scantily-clad dancers, who got their fair share of gawking already.

He’d taken a bad shot to the thigh on their job, blazing pain that kept him from being able to think. Risha gave him something that deadened it, but he _still_ couldn’t quite get his thoughts together. (Teo would say: _as if you can ever think straight, farmboy,_ with that sharp-toothed smile.) Lucky that the Dealer’s Den was between their target and their next rendezvous; Corso could sit down, rest, somewhere that they were sure they wouldn’t get shot at.

“.... but despite the ambush, you retrieved the cargo? No difficulties?”

“I’d call an ambush some god-damn _difficulties,_ Darmas!” Teo pointed emphatically, gills flaring as his big black eyes narrowed to slits. The neon lights tinted his yellow skin with pink, green, and orange in turns. “They knew we were coming, and one of my people got fucking _shot_ because _you_ couldn’t keep your information secure-”

Corso had the irrepressible urge to remind Teo that Risha was standing right there, and decent men didn’t cuss in front of ladies. But when he opened his mouth, his leg flared up with pain again. He curled up on himself, sitting sideways in the cantina booth with his injured leg splayed out in front of him, and by the time he tuned back in, Darmas and the Captain were discussing payment instead.

“Be that as it may, Captain, we shook on fifteen percent,”

“Yeah, and for some reason I assumed you were telling the truth about the cargo being unguarded. The extra five goes to medical care for my crew, and if you don’t like it, maybe give us all the information next time, since you know everything in the wide galaxy,”

“I’ve never claimed to, Captain,”

“Every other job you’ve given me, the specs were accurate, and you couldn’t grant me the same courtesy on this one? You get ten percent, and be grateful I’m not knocking you down even farther, ‘cause kolto ain’t cheap and Riggs is gonna need plenty of it,”

Corso faded away into the pain for another minute, eyes catching on the dancing girls- and boys- before he forced himself to behave. They probably already thought he was a dumb jackass, he didn’t need to prove them right.

The crew had somewhere to be. Didn’t they? Risha said- she had to be at the rendezvous with the next client. And she had to be early, and she had to take Bowdaar with her for muscle. All those things, which was a lot to remember when he was all drifty and his leg hurt. But it meant- Risha leaving meant she was going to get him back to the ship, which meant he got to _sleep_ , which sounded like the best thing in the world even though he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to go about it with the persistent stabbing pain. He’d figure that out once he was in his bunk.

But still. He had to wait until after they were done debriefing, and giving Darmas his cut of the profit. Then he’d leave with Risha, she’d get him settled at home in the ship, and she’d go off to the rendezvous for the next handoff. Helluva life they led, some days.

He had no idea what Teo had going on. Maybe they could go back to the ship together, watch a holo, fall asleep on the couch like they had a couple times. It had been nice- peaceful. Falling asleep with Teo resting hesitantly on his chest, Teo’s Nautolan head-tendril-things (he was too sauced to remember what they were called) twining around his wrists like they were trying to hold him.

Teo never let anyone else get that close. Corso considered it something of a badge of honor.

He forced his eyes to refocus. Teo had walked closer, leaning on the side of the couch where Darmas was sitting, and was counting out the credit sticks between the two of them. They were talking, but in such low voices that Corso couldn’t hear.

His eyes didn’t have any difficulty focusing when Darmas put his hand on Teo’s knee. Corso furrowed his brow, his shoulders tensing. Darmas even squeezed, leaning in towards Teo’s body. And Teo let him, even though his webbed hands were still clenching and unclenching with anger.

It wasn’t like Corso didn’t know that they.... dallied. Before he and Teo used Darmas’ information-trading skills to find _Open Ocean_ and get her back from the yellow-bellied scum-sucker who stole Teo’s ship, he’d sat here in this very same cantina with the full uncomfortable knowledge of what they were doing. He and Teo had barely even known each other, and Corso’d had to sit at the bar, awkward and irritated, as Darmas _conducted his business_ with Teo in the back room.

But he hadn’t felt his stomach curdling like it did now, watching Darmas squeeze intrusive pressure on Teo’s leg. He hadn’t known, then, how selective Teo was about touch, how protective he was of his space. How much of an honor it was when he trusted you enough.

He hadn’t yet considered Teo his best friend.

Risha sauntered into his line of sight, swaying her hips in her standard swagger that could turn sensual or arrogant on a dime. She held out a hand, and Corso clasped her by the wrist, grateful for the assistance in hauling himself out of the booth. The movement hurt his injured leg something terrible, and he winced, breathing through it as his grip tightened on Risha’s wrist to the point of pain.

“Sorry,” he said, relaxing his hand as the flare of pain receded. “I ain’t realize I was holdin’ you so tight.” He could feel his accent getting thicker with the drugs and the pain, and knew he sounded like a backwater hick. It would probably make him cringe when the drugs wore off.

“It’s fine, Corso,” Risha said, tightening her grip on his wrist to heave him out of the booth, levering his arm over her shoulders with shocking ease. “I know how to take a strong handshake.”

Struggling to get his feet under him, Corso tried to put some weight on his injured leg and gasped when it buckled. Risha held him up- bless her- but he couldn’t put any weight on his right leg at all, his thigh painful to the point of a numb, staticky feeling. The muscles just gave out, and he tried to balance on his left to compensate, which made Risha have to stop and wait for him to sort himself out.

Corso could feel Bowdaar’s bulk behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders as the Wookiee prepared to hold both of them upright. It got him to relax- not that he relished the image he’d make, being carried bridal-style in a Wookiee’s big, hairy arms, but at the very least if he fell over he wouldn’t be taking Risha with him. He tried to balance on his left leg, hopping along with Risha on his right side taking his weight. It wasn’t easy. He always saw people with canes or crutches moving around with ease, and all at once he was realizing it wasn’t something intuitive; it was something that you learned with long practice.

Risha took one step, waiting for him to get his act together, and Corso worked to keep his right leg bent, keep the weight off it as he hopped along. It would be easier if he could think- between the drugs and the pain, he didn’t have the brain space for moving, balancing, and not using his right leg all at the same damn time. His vision was all fuzzy and spinning from the drugs, and the lights- and the _dancers,_ damn- were still distracting him.

A loud noise made him startle, almost falling, and only Bowdaar’s hand on his left shoulder kept him upright. Risha swore, stopping dead to root around in her pocket. Her comm was going off; Corso swayed, resting some weight on Bowdaar to keep himself up, and twitched his injured leg only to hiss and flinch. He could hear Risha starting to talk, but it took him a minute to tune in.

“- _mean_ he’s outside right now?” Her tone was frantic, and Corso had never heard Risha so stressed. She was always so calm and collected that hearing her voice rise up in stress was alarming.

“Just- _keep_ him there,” Risha ordered whoever was comming her, “offer him a smoke, a drink, fuck him in the alley if you have to, but do not let him into that bar until I’m _there,_ do you understand me?!”

Corso made a bewildered noise, somewhere between _augh_ and _bwuhh?,_ and stumbled into Bowdaar’s solid grip.

Risha whirled on the both of them. “Bowdaar, we need to go. Now. The rendezvous spot is only a few minutes away and it shouldn’t take long-” She seemed to catch sight of Corso for the first time, odd seeing as he was still resting plenty of his weight on her. She swore, her broad face and dark eyes crinkling up with calculating intent.

“Okay,” she said, her tone diplomatic, “Okay. Corso. You’ll be fine here until the Captain is finished, right?”

“What?” Corso shook his head, dizzy. He wanted to go home.

“We have to make the meeting,” Risha reminded him, “or we don’t get this next job. If we don’t get this next job, we don’t get _paid_ for the next job, and we _need_ to get paid or we can’t fuel the ship. So I’m going to leave you in your booth here-” she maneuvered him around, Bowdaar helping with a low rumble, and plonked him back into the seat he’d just left. “And you’re gonna wait for the Captain. Okay?”

“Rish, I don’t...” Corso’s head lolled, the cushion of his tied-up dreads the only thing keeping him from giving himself head trauma against the back wall, and he wondered why all the lights were spinning. “I wanna go home.” He wanted his bunk, his own warm blankets, a wrap for his hair and the rumbling white noise of _Open Ocean’s_ filters and backups.

Risha faltered, staring down at him with a tense jaw and sad eyes. Then she visibly resolved, set her expression, and stepped back. “You’ll get back to the ship with Teo when he’s done negotiating with Pollaran. I gotta go. C’mon, Bowdaar.”

Bowdaar rumbled, looking from her to Corso and back. While Corso didn’t speak Shyriiwook, he could tell that there was language somewhere in there, and not just apprehensive noise.

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, Risha searched her pockets. “ _Fine,”_ She pulled an unlabelled tin from her pocket, and popped it open to grab two pills and set them in front of him on the booth’s grimy table. “These are your next two doses. Take this one-” she gestured to a pill- “in an hour, and keep the next one for when you get back to the ship. I’ll send one of the servers over with water. Stay hydrated. Maybe try to sleep. You’ll be _fine.”_ She seemed to direct this last statement mostly at Bowdaar.

Grumbling, Bowdaar took his hand off of Corso’s shoulder, patted him twice, and drew back.

Left without much choice, Corso scooted backwards, resting his shoulders on the wall, careful not to jostle his leg. Lucky that the Dealer’s Den wasn’t quite so busy tonight. His booth was empty, and so were both of the ones around him. He could even sort of hear Teo’s voice- Darmas’ private suite must be on the other side of the wall. There was a thought attached to that observation, somewhere, but he shifted his leg and it flew away from him as the pain lit him up like fire. The painkillers were probably wearing off, but it wasn’t quite time for his next dose.

He adjusted. Rested- he had, after all, spent most of the day running around gettin’ shot at. The lights danced, and so did the pretty girls, and Corso closed his eyes to keep his staring to himself. No matter how much they got paid to put themselves on display, he wasn’t gonna be rude enough to impose on them.

Teo’s voice echoed a little through the wall behind him, a comforting sound- “ _If that’s what I wanted, then-”_

“Hey, honey. You Corso?”

The voice jolted him, and Corso opened his eyes to find something that made him want to close them right back up.

It was one of the dancers. _Not_ one of the girls, who Corso had talked to once or twice and who giggled at him when he called them _ma’am._ No, he wasn’t that lucky.

It was one of the _boy_ dancers. Slim chest bare and oiled, shimmering with some gold glitter stuff. His skin was a pleasant spring green that wasn’t that far off from Teo’s, and his Mirialan tattoos were outlined with the same gold glitter as his chest and his dark eyes.

Corso had no idea why Darmas paid to keep boys in those costumes. He couldn’t imagine ladies looking at them the way that men leered at the girl dancers, after all, and.... well, and anything else was unthinkable to a boy raised on Ord Mantell, where _sissy_ was the worst insult on the playground and any stronger words for that sort of talk were kept to whispered rumors.

Just looking at the guy made him flush and look away. “‘S me, yeah,” he murmured.

The young man set down a glass of water in front of him, hands strong and smooth, his nails buffed until they shone. “Your friend told me to give you this. She said you’re with Darmas’ network?”

“Mh-hm,” Corso hummed, staring at the water glass so that he didn’t have to see the spangly bracelets on the guy’s wrists or the glitter on his chest. “Thanks.” His voice was high and tight as he watched a droplet slide down the side of the glass, and he wondered absently if Teo was dehydrated; a Nautolan that spent all his time out of water could dry up like a seedling on a summer day, and Corso had gotten used to worrying about his Captain. It was easier to think about Teo than the boy in front of him.

“Well, you need anything, you let me know,” there was a laugh in the guy’s Coruscant accent, and there was the blurry feeling that he knew exactly why Corso was blushing. Probably thought he was a stupid hick, which wasn’t so far off with how put-upon he felt by one scantily dressed dancing boy. “Anything at all.”

Corso made a weak noise of assent, still not looking at him, and _thunked_ his head back against the wall again. Trying not to let his eyes track the guy as he walked away with that blue silk barely covering his backside, he rolled his head until his ear was pressed to the wall. He shut his eyes and let the club music fade into the background. Maybe he could sleep...

_“Ah-ah, Teonine. I don’t believe that you’ve earned-”_

Straightening, Corso tried to sit up and squawked in agony when the movement jostled his injured leg. The pain rocketed him back against the wall, his shoulders flat as his body tried to tense-and-release the pain away. He could still hear Darmas’ sultry voice echoing a little, and couldn’t tell if it was in his head, or coming through the wall.

Mentally running through every dirty word he knew- and, despite his efforts to stay mealy-mouthed around the ladies in his life, Corso knew _a lot-_ he realized how stupid he was. This wall that the booth was attached to? Backed up to Darmas’ private rooms. Where he’d taken Teo not half an hour ago.

The wall that he was now stuck leaning against. With an injured leg. And nobody around who could help him move.

_“Good boy, Teonine. Very good.”_

Darmas’ voice was still disturbingly audible, and Corso’s stomach churned. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed for the pill on the table, popped it in his mouth, and grabbed the icewater to wash it down.

If he had to be an unwilling voyeur to... _that,_ he sure as Hell wasn’t gonna be _sober_ for the show.

He tried to shift away from the wall, but it made him gasp, freezing up with the horrible, nauseating pain. Holy Mother, his leg hurt like somethin’ else. He hoped that damn pill kicked in soon. He felt a little more like he could think, but the burn on his thigh made it impossible to move. And the only distraction was...

Teo made a muffled noise. It was quiet- Corso never would have heard it if he wasn't listening for it, but he _was,_ all his nerves stretched tight, and it sounded pitiful and desperate and full of a pleasure so forbidden that Corso felt dirty just listening to it. It made all the hair on his arms stand on end.

Corso grabbed at the water again, wishing it were something stronger and hoping against hope that the cold shocked his nerves into behaving.

He kept his eyes closed as he drank, then rolled the sweating glass across his forehead to try and calm down. Instead of the slick noises behind him, the sound of Darmas’ low voice rumbling dirty praise- and fuck-all, Corso had never ever wanted to hear _that-_ he tried to think of his and Bowdaar’s plan for when Risha got them that fortune she kept promising was right around the corner.

After Teo had a bad bout of the flu, nearly drowning in his dry-ass bed because his gills opened up in a desperate attempt to breathe, he and Bowdaar had started to draw up the plans. Struggling through the language barrier, Bows made it eminently clear that he _never_ wanted to have to break down the Captain’s door to save his idiot life again; Corso got the impression, through Bowdaar’s broad hand gestures and approximation of Basic Sign, that he’d watched more than one Nautolan slave die from a preventable illness like that.

So they’d started making plans, looking up costs for a shipboard tank. Ideally, it would be big enough for Teo to swim a couple body-lengths, but that depended on how much of the cargo hold they were willing to lose (and how much fortune was actually _left_ once Risha got done with her wacky scheming.) It was kinda fun, looking up specs, debating if they should have somebody come in and do it or if they could order the parts and set it up themselves.

Imagining Teo’s bushwhacked face when he first saw his very own fishtank, built by his friends, was a comforting daydream for Corso. The Captain might even smile. And he was so graceful in the water- Corso had sat with his feet in the water and watched Teo’s lithe form turn flips in an Alderaan lake for hours, happy as a fathier in a field even though the freshwater wasn’t quite right for his skin. It had ended up giving him a rash, which he deemed ‘worth it’.

Corso rubbed a hand over his face, feeling way too warm all over. Teo really didn’t seem to give a damn about taking care of himself.

Giving more evidence to that theory, Corso heard a thick _crack_ come from the room behind him- and then the heavy sound of a body hitting the floor. His belly jumped with surprise, and he twisted at the waist to lean his head against the wall, trying to hear.

All he could think was, _that better be Darmas, or else-_

A low, pleading sound echoed through the wall. Corso had never, ever heard Teo sound so helpless or afraid; hadn’t thought his Captain was capable of it.

He tensed all over, feeling for the gun at his hip- if that had turned into a fight, could he shoot through the wall? No, he couldn’t, because Risha had taken his gun when she gave him the first dose of painkillers- _no friendly fire, farmboy,_ she’d told him- and all he had was Hewie at his belt, the trusty grip of the combat knife comforting but not enough to go through a wall.

_“-going to lie there and think about what you did, and I’m going to hit you until you apologize.”_

Oh. So that was just how Darmas played. Corso clenched his teeth.

It wasn’t like he didn’t- didn’t _know_ what some people did. The old soldiers in the Brigade had delighted in showing him the nastiest stuff they had saved on their datapads, just to watch the teenaged farm-boy wince and blush. They had all been adamant that he’d like it, too, someday, but he never did develop a taste for that sort of thing.

It just seemed so damn disrespectful. You didn’t treat your sweetheart like that, you didn’t hit or choke ‘em and leave them crying on the cold floor, you weren’t meant to call them all manner of filthy names like they were gutter trash. If you hated your lover like that, why the Hell would you ever be with them in the first place? He kept his mouth shut in locker rooms ‘cause he knew some of that talk was just to let off steam, but he’d never gotten rid of the schoolboy urge to start a fight with anybody that really thought that bullshit was okay.

The thought of anyone treating Teo like that had him white-knuckling it on Hewie’s grip.

Corso shut his eyes tight, like his mama used to make him do when he was a little kid trying to control his temper. He counted off thirty seconds- trying not to hear the filthy, desperate noises at his back- and then opened his eyes to watch the riot of sparkles swimming in his vision. They faded, slowly, dancing around his vision as he began to blush somethin’ awful. Holy Mother, Teo was making _noise._

Teo always had a quick smile and a wink for anybody that caught his eye, and Corso had watched him pull a dancer onto his lap many a night. Boy or girl didn’t matter- he just tucked them up close to play with their hair or lekku, grinning wide and confident. Corso had just assumed that Teo was.... like that... all the time. Never assumed anything about his arrangement with Darmas, because it was none of his business. But he’d had this mental picture of Teo being the big man in every way, every situation- the same hero-worship that he remembered from his childhood with Rona, thinking she ruled the world.

A loud moan was incredibly audible through the wall. Corso clenched his eyes shut again. He had never imagined this. How delicate and needful Teo could be, when he was always such a prickly bastard. Heat built in his belly that he hoped to all the stars in the sky was embarrassment, listening to Teo whine and plead.

He realized he was silently urging Darmas to give Teo whatever the hell he wanted- he sounded so damn distressed. Corso would’ve broken down and showered his own imaginary sweetheart with whatever attention he wanted at the very first of those pleading noises, sending shivers down his back. He couldn’t imagine ever just leaving a lover to cry and beg like that, not giving them whatever they needed so damn bad. Maybe that made him weak, he didn’t know. But it was sending his mind to some awful filthy places.

Opening his eyes, Corso bit down on his lip, hard. The neon lights were spinning again. He focused on one, hard, trying to force his thoughts clean. Teo cried out, whined and whimpered at his back, and his belly churned. _Damn it, Darmas,_ he thought muzzily, _just let him have whatever he wants, make him happy. Give him that, at least, after the day we’ve had._

He told himself it was.... that was okay. Teo was his best friend, the heat in his belly meant nothing at all, and he just wanted his best friend to be content. Didn’t want him writhing and crying, because that was cruel- Darmas was being cruel, and when he came out, Corso was gonna give him a piece of his mind.

Corso wouldn’t treat a lover like that. Not ever. He swore it to himself, rocking back and forth a little as the lights blinked and fuzzed in his vision. He wanted to.... Whenever he thought about _that,_ all he wanted was to make his fantasy-sweetheart happy. He didn’t want this, the slapping, the begging cries. That wasn’t what he thought about.

_“Please, fuck, I’m sorry- right there- god I need it so fucking bad, please-”_

But he was blushing awful hard. With mild, far-away horror, he realized his cock was twitching in cautious interest, responding to the heat that was spreading under his ribs. Not letting himself think about it, he dug a fist into the burn on his leg. He choked on the pain; it took over his whole world for a second, taking his focus away from the noises, his own blushing.

As the burning ache faded, he heard Teo behind him. _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”_

Corso’s heart hurt.

His leg hurt, too. What did Risha say about the painkillers? It’d been an hour, right? Corso looked around, feeling fuzzy, and slapped a hand on the table for the pill she’d left.

Dry-swallowing it, he leaned his head back against the wall. Teo. Poor Teo. He sounded so damn desperate and Corso wished he could take his best friend in his arms and just- hold him close, soothe him, talk him down until he didn’t feel like this anymore. Teo was apologizing like he’d done something really wrong, like he’d robbed a mom-and-pop store or swallowed too many pills at once; like he needed to be forgiven more than he needed air.

Corso would forgive him, if Teo let him. He rocked his back into the wall. _Teo, Teo, it’s okay, I forgive you, it’s okay,_ he said inside his head. Like Teo could hear him. His chest hurt and he didn’t know why, he was just listening to Teo whine and cry and plead. But it hurt him somewhere deep inside. Must be the drugs. It was probably the drugs.

Staring at the lights that were really starting to spin, Corso felt like crying at the pain in his chest, the ache in his belly, the agony in his best friend’s voice. All he wanted to do was help. Fucking Darmas did this, he ruined everything, he was hurting Teo and Corso was gonna...

There was a _bang_ on the wall behind him, and it made Corso jump.

_“Please- please fuck me, please- there, there, there- ohfuck yes- please- I’m sorry- please- give it to me- I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry please-”_

Panting, keening noises echoed through the wall; then it went quiet. Finally, it was quiet. Relieved, Corso sighed and let his eyes close. He didn’t have to fight anymore, didn’t have to worry about every spare twitch of arousal through his belly sayin’ something about himself that he didn’t wanna know. He could just rest easy...

He drifted. The painkillers must’ve been kicking in; he felt good, like he was floating. Like starting to fall asleep, half-aware and too comfortable to move.

Someone said his name, and Corso’s eyes blurred open. Everything was spinning. He couldn’t feel anything, not really, except a faint buzzing all over his body that felt really, really good. It felt like all the best parts of being tipsy with none of the downsides. A soft yellow figure was silhouetted in the neon lights, tresses spilling over his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Heyy, Captain,” Corso managed, a grin splitting his face as he lost control of his neck muscles and stopped pressing his ear to the damn wall. Teo! That was Teo. His best friend. Corso was awful happy to see him, especially since the last he’d heard through that wall, Teo sounded pretty fuckin’ miserable. “You’re okay,” he said, wonderingly. It seemed like a miracle- one second, Teo was a writhing mess of a man begging to be- well, begging for something that Corso was never gonna be able to give him. And the next, he was right here! In front of Corso! Safe and sound. He even looked normal, looked happy. Or as happy as Teo ever got.

“I’m okay. What are you doing here? Risha was supposed to take you back to the ship...” Teo held his hand out as he spoke, and Corso clapped his hand around it, holding on like dear life to that warmth and strength, proof that his brilliant take-charge Captain wasn’t the same as that moaning, desperately-apologizing lover on the other side of the wall-

* * *

Corso woke up.

He was in his own bunk. His hair wasn’t wrapped, he was still dressed, and he had a headache that pulsed like he’d drank too much wine- which was weird, because he hadn’t drank wine since he was thirteen and Rona snuck them some out of her parents’ cabinet- but he was tucked up snug in his own blankets with the divider on his bunk firmly closed against the outside world. He felt securely enclosed, same as he always did when he shut the collapsible barrier between himself and the rest of the bunkroom, but...

What was the last thing he remembered? The cantina, right? Sitting in that damn booth, listening to Teo.... negotiate... with Darmas, taking his painkillers to numb it away and then... and then taking the second dose of painkillers that Risha had left for later....

Corso sighed. That was the reason for the pounding headache, the missing time. He’d double-dosed himself. The last thing he remembered was Teo pulling him out of the booth with slick, webbed hands, wrapping his own callused strength around Teo’s and grateful his best friend was much stronger than he looked.

Somewhere in the bedclothes, his chrono was shining. He searched, looking for the source of the telltale blue glow, and when he found the little disc that shone the time on four different planets and Galactic Basic Time, he found that it was the middle of the night by anybody’s money.

Still vaguely nauseous, Corso rolled over with a quiet noise of discontent in the back of his throat. There was no way he was going back to sleep- after a chemically-induced pass-out, he usually couldn’t sleep for a good twelve hours, no matter how comfortable he got. And he wasn’t. He didn’t have the soft cloth wrap for his dreads that reminded him of his mother’s, and his stomach was still sort of churning with the reminder that he’d taken twice as much of those painkillers as he should have.

Not to mention that he was still fully dressed. Teo had probably just rolled him into his bunk; damn, he hoped he hadn’t been a bother. Or said anything stupid.

He struggled upright. Thank goodness, his leg was still numb- the meds must not have worn off all the way. Reaching for the handle on the screen that blocked his bunk off from the rest of the room, he flicked it upwards and hoped he didn’t make enough noise to piss off Risha or Bowie.

The table that rested near the wall, where Teo left notes for him or Risha, was supplied with a kolto wrap, a bottle of water, and a little lightpen doodle of a smiling face. Corso smiled back, touched by the thoughtfulness, and stretched out to grab it and pull it into his bunk.

He was still in his work pants, which he had to _peel_ off of the burn wound. It sucked, and Corso had to grind his teeth together and recite every cussword he knew inside his head to get through it. But stripping the fabric from the blaster burn didn’t take long, and he wrapped it up, eager to be able to walk under his own power again. He had a dizzy recollection of Teo half-carrying him. That was sweet, but sometimes a man had to do a thing himself. Like walk to the goddamn fresher.

Corso eased out of his bunk, swinging his newly-wrapped leg out with the tenderness of a guy who was very used to getting shot. At least it was familiar. He grabbed hold of the bedframe, holding himself up a bit. He staggered in the direction of the crew’s shower, grabbing the second bunk on the way and thanking the Holy Mother that it was empty. The one thing he didn’t need in this situation was more people to worry about waking up.

The ship was cold, still, and quiet. Kind of unnervingly so. They were still docked- the engines weren’t firing and neither was the navicomputer, and all Corso could really hear was _Open Ocean’s_ water and heating systems whirring together in perfect harmony.

And if they were still docked, that meant they were still hooked into the spaceport’s water system. Corso’s shoulders relaxed at the thought. _Open Ocean_ was one of the few ships he’d ever flown on that had enough real water for baths or showers- he’d lived most of his teens getting used to the irritating prickle of a sonic shower, intensely foreign for a farmboy who was used to splashing off in the river if he got too grimy. In contrast, the crew’s shower was a luxury- but it was still precious water that the ship mostly needed to conserve for drinking, so the heaters didn’t store enough to be hot for very long.

But, since they were still hooked into the spaceport’s water supply, the hot water would run a whole lot longer.

Shuffling inside and nudging the door closed, Corso set up the collapsible chair in the stall and sank down onto it with a quiet noise of relief. While he could technically stand, it would be real painful- his leg was already smarting at him as he slid his underwear down and stripped his shirt off his shoulders, everything half-stiff and smelling of blaster smoke and fear sweat. Not really caring much, he threw them to the other end of the long-ass stall where the water never reached. They collapsed in a pile under the hooks where Risha kept her fluffy bathrobes.

He set the temperature, and hit the _water_ instead of the _sonic_ button with a welcoming grin.

The stream of water started up, warm as could be as it hit the center of his chest, and Corso relaxed into it, leaning his head back to keep his hair out of the spray. He usually kept it covered, but the distance to the cabinet at the other end of the ‘fresher, where he kept the stuff for his hair in a basket with Risha’s fancy soaps, was too much to contemplate with his leg pounding like it was. Luckily the kolto wrap was waterproof.

At this point, he didn’t even care about soap. All he wanted to do was rinse off, get warm... Relax with nobody waiting on the ‘fresher after him...

The prospect was too good to pass up, and Corso was suddenly very aware of his dick. He hadn’t- well, it’d been a while, sharing a bunkroom and a fresher between three people. The privacy curtain on his bunk was alright, but he was still shy about gettin’ himself off with a lady in the room, despite the fact that Risha was two bunks away with earplugs in.

He relaxed back into the chair, closed his eyes, and rested his hand on his belly as he conjured up images- he’d been so put off by the bombardment of weird, terrible pornography from his soldier buddies that he’d never really sought it out for himself. No, he just remembered girls he’d had crushes on in years past, or cute girls in the pin-ups, and... let his imagination take it from there.

Today it was a cute mech-head girl he’d known mostly by reputation on Ord Mantell- she had a bright, chirping voice and a constant smile, and she wore tight shirts that were always covered in engine grease. She embroidered cartoonish tooka faces onto her cargo pants. One time she winked at Corso as he passed her, loading boxes for Viidu, and he’d blushed for hours.

So that was what he thought about- if she’d come up to him and struck up a conversation, grinned at the way he couldn’t stop staring at the stretched and faded logo at the front of her shirt that covered her impressive chest. And maybe she’d have playfully unhooked the snaps on her coveralls as they talked, nudging him behind the storage crate, and then embarrassed the hell outta him by asking if he wanted to see...

He wrapped a hand around his twitching cock, giving in and helping himself along. His eyelids fluttered. Imagining himself stammering with awkwardness as she rucked her shirt up, gave him an eyeful, and grabbed hold of his hands to put ‘em where she wanted... Grabbing hold of his hair as he felt her up, touched the softness of her skin as she laughed with a gentle gasp and tangled her hands into his dreads as she pulled him down closer to kiss the very corner of his mouth.

Corso was always a little embarrassed about how many of his fantasies were just about being touched. He knew it was his responsibility, as the guy, to take the first step, to show interest _first_ no matter how nerve-wracking it was. But in the deepest, dumbest corner of his heart, he just wanted somebody to be interested in him. To want him, to want to touch him, stroke his hair or rub his shoulders or punch him in the arm when he acted like an idiot.

Teo was starting to do that. After months of Corso slapping him on the back or pushing him around in a kid-brother kind of way, Teo had finally begun to reciprocate the touching in earnest. They bumped hips in the kitchen, play-wrestled over the remote for the holo. It was nice to have someone like that, close like he and his cousins had been. Somebody to lean on.

Shaking his head, Corso blinked in the shower’s spray. What the hell was he doing thinking about his best friend? He was so easily distracted, damn.

Forcing himself back into the fantasy, Corso pictured the girl grinning against his mouth, her hands twining around his belt to unhook it and reach for his dick, hard as anything against her skilled, callused fingers. She tilted her head down, kissing the sensitive spot under his jaw, leaving a hickey so hard that his hands clenched, groping her tits in a way that felt dirty but so right when she gasped against his skin. Moving his shirt aside, she bit at his collarbone, pulled back with a dirty wink, and sank to her knees.

Corso swallowed, hard. He liked to think about this, but always with a certain amount of nerves.

His first and only blowjob had been from his fiancée back home, ditching their chaperone to take a walk by the creek in the moonlight. When she noticed he was sprung she’d looked at him like a dog that pissed on the rug, and spat his spendings into the water with a disgusted look on her face when she was done. He hadn’t even really wanted to go that far, but he was too nervous to tell her that he was seventeen and he’d pretty much gotten hard from the sound of the damn water running over the rocks, not from anything _she_ did wrong. It had been intensely mediocre and sort of humiliating, left him aching for somebody who actually wanted it, _enjoyed_ it even.

The pretty mechanic, though. She took hold of his hands again to put them into her soft hair, licking him from base to tip- he drew his fingers up as he imagined it, mimicking the motion he saw in his head- with a dirty smile. Opening her mouth wide, she sighed with pleasure as she took the head of his cock in her mouth, sucking almost daintily. Her hand curled around his ankle, rubbing a friendly, soothing pressure with her thumb like she was telling him to be calm. She stuck her tongue out along his shaft as his hands flexed in her hair, not sure if he should pull, and she sank down easily as anything, warm wet heat that made him sigh as he fisted over himself faster, his thighs tensing up.

And this was the part of the fantasy where he would usually switch gears and she’d be in his lap, but Corso slowed for a second, an idea occurring to him. Teo’s desperate pleading from the night before had been embarrassing, sure, but it made him realize. In all those terrible holovids, all the stupid playground jokes, it was taken for granted that fucking somebody like- like _that_ was horrible; he’d had to shut his eyes through at least one dirty recording of some poor girl crying in pain as a guy growled about how it must hurt to have his cock up her ass, the old mercenaries laughing as he flinched from the cruelty of it.

But this proved it could feel nice, too. For both of them. It didn’t have to be unpleasant- she could be begging for it, _right there right there right there,_ and oh _fuck_ even thinking about it coiled dangrous heat through his belly, the forbiddenness of it making it hot. Corso whined a little through his nose as he tightened his grip, tried to imagine her voice.

_“Please, fuck- right there- god I need it so fucking bad, please just-”_

It wasn’t her voice. It was Teo’s. He couldn’t get his friend’s voice out of his head, begging for pleasure, begging for comfort, begging for forgiveness, slick smooth skin under his hands as Teo asked him for something he could give-

Unexpected lightning shot down Corso’s spine at the unwilling, invasive thought. His back arched him halfway out of the shower stream-

_“Please- please fuck me, please- there, there, there- ohfuck yes- please- please- give it to me- I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry please-”_

Gasping, pleasure swarming his entire body in the most intense orgasm of his life, Corso stopped breathing and came all over his damn chest, Teo’s begging stuck like a burr in his memory as his whole skin ached for his best friend’s touch.

He panted for air in the humidity of the shower, hot water pummeling his mess off of his belly, shaky with the aftermath of pleasure that was slowly turning into terrifying self-awareness.

_Oh, shit._


	2. Chapter 2

The door closed behind Teo, and he had to make a concentrated effort to stop digging his nails into his palms. The lights of Darmas’ private room were dim, which in theory should have been relaxing, but at the moment it just made him wonder what was happening in the shadowy corners, behind the back-lit bar and its enormous collection of liquors from all over the galaxy.

What was happening behind the bar, it turned out, was Darmas stepping back and mixing two whiskey sours, which Teo knew from experience was the older man’s favorite drink. Teo drank his own home-brew or specialty cider, when he drank at all, but Teo had learned a long time ago that when one was sleeping with an older man, it paid to let him think you respected his taste in alcohol.

He sauntered over, looking more confident than he felt and refusing to glance into the dark corners of the room, and sat down at one of the plush barstools. The leather was slick against his smooth, slightly sticky skin. (That was a reminder that he needed to drink more water.) Teo took the tumbler that Darmas passed him, plucking an ice cube out to suck the water from it. For years, he hadn’t really cared if he got dehydrated, even to the point where he got dizzy and faint; but these days Corso tended to get on his case about it.

Thinking about Corso sort of felt like getting punched in the gut, and he crunched an ice cube between his teeth. The noise over their comms when his farmboy got shot- a quick, surprised gasp of pain- was going to haunt Teo’s nightmares. And all because he hadn’t kept a good enough lookout.

“Credit for your thoughts, Captain,” Darmas said, walking out from behind the bar to lean against the seat next to Teo’s. He sipped at his drink, savoring the expensive liquor.

Teo grinned carelessly. “Got one of my people shot today,” he admitted. “Doesn’t feel so good.” Tired of trying to rehydrate himself responsibly, he swigged back some of the whiskey and swallowed before he quite tasted it.

“Ah,” Darmas’ smug smile slipped away, and Teo was grateful for the card sharp’s easy charm that allowed Darmas to imitate compassion. “But perhaps it was a lack of information that was the real culprit here.”

Another swig, another couple of ice cubes swallowed. He should probably just ask for water. Corso would get on his case later about his skin being dry- if he wasn’t too strung-out on heavy duty painkillers to do so. Poor innocent farmboy, led into a killing field because he trusted Teo more than was healthy or sane. “I’m the captain here, Darmas. Everything’s my fault.”

Eyeing him, Darmas hummed, smiling as though he’d realized what Teo was really driving at. “I see. And if you were to, perhaps, be looking for somewhere _not_ to be the captain.... somewhere to forsake your responsibility for a golden moment... Is this where you’d come to find it?”

“If that was what I wanted,” Teo asked lightly, staring down his drink like it had just played a deeply suspicious hand of cards, “would I have come to the right place?”

“You might well have,” Darmas confirmed with another sip of his whiskey sour.

“Oh, good.” Teo nodded, cool and placid.

Then he tossed back his drink, set the empty glass on the bar, and grabbed the front of Darmas’ shirt to pull him into a biting kiss.

To his credit, Darmas took it well- he reciprocated in less than a heartbeat, surging close to wind a commanding grip along his jaw, and invading Teo’s mouth with his tongue as he pushed him against the bar. He was even careful to set his own glass down before he coaxed Teo back in the seat and spread his thighs to step between them.

“Captain,” Darmas began, his voice breathless and half an octave lower from arousal.

“Teonine,” Teo corrected him. “My full name, when we do things like this.”

Darmas pushed his back flush against the bar, forcing his posture straight. From this angle, they were eye-to-eye, even though Teo was a few inches shorter standing. “And what do you say when you ask for things, Teonine?” His voice was calm, authoritative.

“Please,” Teo added like an afterthought, slouching just enough to look up at him with big, dark, pleading eyes. A thread of shamed arousal snaked through his belly. Having his partners use his full name was a punishment he only inflicted on himself for his worst mistakes, but he reluctantly enjoyed the sensation of being put in his place.

“Good boy,” Darmas said with a slick grin. “Is there anything else you need me to know, Teonine?” He said the name like he was delighted by it, and Teo wanted to sink into the floor. He twitched as arousal pooled between his legs, his cock stirring inside the pouch that kept his reproductive system sealed away from air or water.

Sometimes he hated the things his libido wanted.

“No toys on the first go-around,” Teo said, plagued by memories of a girl who’d torn him up with a belt when he was a teenager and gotten shot by his mentor for her trouble, “and no hits with a closed fist.”

Darmas pursed his lips, and then smiled. “I believe that’ll do us nicely. Now, since you’ve been so kind as to distract me, I’ve somewhat ruined my drink,” he gestured to the melting ice in his glass- which, in Teo’s opinion, could only have improved the whiskey by diluting it- “so I’m going to make myself another, and when I’m done, I want you naked and on your knees next to my sofa over there.”

“Got it,” Teo nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of Darmas’ mouth. Biting his lip in a gentle goodbye, Darmas let him hop down from the barstool.

Shucking off his long black coat- which wasn’t warm, but made him look pretty damn cool- Teo draped it on the back of the abandoned barstool and pulled off his long-sleeved shirt, revealing lithely muscular arms that he considered his best feature. He wasn’t bulky or strong like Corso, but he was fast and he’d finally managed to scrape up some pride in his natural swimmer’s build. Folding it- it was a nice blue that he’d bought because it matched the pale blue rings that patterned his _ahwey_ and dappled his shoulders- he set that on the barstool too, and pulled off his belt and his boots.

With a deep breath to give himself courage, he pulled his pants and boxers down in the same movement. It was always weird, the first time- a few months ago, with Darmas, neither of them had gotten fully naked, wriggling hands into zippers and kissing frantically. He was always nervous that humans or near-to would find his anatomy weird.

Which, speaking of- he trailed a few fingers down the slit on his belly, breathing deep to fan the embers of heat that were starting up in his gut. He followed the line down between his legs, two fingers between the moist warmth there to touch the pointed head of his cock where it was tucked away inside him.

The first time he learned about Human anatomy in sex-ed, he’d made a face. Having your dick out flapping in the breeze all the time just seemed.... unhygienic.

Teo let his eyes flutter closed as he teased his cock to full hardness, still standing next to the bar. He wrapped a hand around the base of himself, pumping a little harder than he wanted, so that he didn’t lose his erection and get faced with the real awkward question of _“hey, where’d your dick go?”_

“I believe I mentioned,” Darmas said from behind the bar, “that I wanted you on your knees, Teonine.”

“I’m going,” Teo muttered, eyes closed so that Darmas didn’t see him roll them. Guys always got so pushy when he let them have this kind of power over him.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to lose his hard-on, Teo padded barefoot over the crappy carpet, over to the couch that rested against the wall. It was a nice red leather that matched the barstools, showing Darmas’ need to present himself as a man of taste even though the cantina’s carpet was as cheap as could be. Teo worked not to roll his eyes again, and knelt down facing the couch.

Darmas hadn’t said anything about his hands, so he adjusted his tresses along his back, the scented bands that kept their pheromone receptors overwhelmed so they didn’t flare up with false-positives in _Open Ocean’s_ recycled air. He brushed a few of the tendrils over his shoulders, keeping them off of his neck and hopefully away from Darmas’ notice- Humans seemed to think that Nautolan tresses were like Human hair, fun to pull on, and it was hard to persuade them that it really just hurt.

“Now, there’s a pretty sight,” Darmas commented, coming around Teo’s kneeling form to splay out on the couch with his new drink. “Teonine Lunulata, waiting so patiently for me.”

“Patience isn’t usually my strong suit,” Teo said, shrugging. Not wanting Darmas to see him futzing with his tresses, he put his hands on his thighs, twitching them towards his dick like he was tempted to touch, but wouldn’t without permission. He smiled, open and performative. Darmas sat like an arrogant asshole, one ankle crossed over his thigh, holding his drink with a pinky out, noble and self-important.

Darmas laughed, and tilted his head, looking down at Teo like something utterly beneath him. That flare of shameful heat started up in Teo’s belly again. “And just now, I think there’s a better use for that mouth than smart comments.”

Teo bit his lower lip, eyes focusing in on the fastening of Darmas’ pants. His belt had been discarded before walking over here- smart man. Wordless, Teo leaned forward, his ass coming up off his thighs as he sat up and put his hand on Darmas’ knee, reaching-

Darmas caught his hand. “Ah-ah, Teonine. I don’t believe that you’ve earned the privilege of using your hands. Behind your back.”

A slight gasp escaped him, and he dug his nails into the leg of Darmas’ pants. He didn’t know if the arousal or the humiliation caught him more off-guard.

Squeezing his hand to the point of pain, Darmas’ voice hardened. “Now.”

Without any input from him, Teo’s hands whipped behind his back and clasped each other there.

Laughing a little, Darmas undid the button on his slacks- kind of him, because while Teo _could_ have gotten it undone with his teeth, it wouldn't have looked anywhere near sexy- and cupped his jaw to draw him in close. There was an unexpected blaster callus on his thumb, rasping against the underside of Teo’s chin. “Good boy, Teonine. Very good.”

Involuntarily, Teo moaned, shame curdling in his belly. He hated- _hated-_ how those words could affect him. Especially when coupled with his full name, seemingly regressing him back to childhood, making him so pathetically desperate to be worthy of praise.

Making sure he wouldn't be able to make any more embarrassing noises, Teo leaned in close and took Darmas’ cock in his mouth.

He was vaguely insulted that Darmas was only half-hard by this point, but the irritation dissipated fast. Teo let his jaw fall open, lax and loose, warm skin welcome against his tongue, his heartbeats slowing. He really did just enjoy giving head, possibly a little too much. He kissed and licked, sucking gently and swirling his tongue in lazy circles as he got wet and messy, slick with spit, nodding his head as he laved a trail of saliva up the side of the cock that was his entire focus.

If it gave Darmas a power trip to keep his pants on during a blowjob, good for him. Teo was gonna make him regret it, because he wasn’t gonna take a dick down his throat without any lubrication at all.

Hands? Who needed hands, really.

Teo relaxed, loosened his jaw, and stretched his tongue out as he sank down, and down- and swallowed carefully- and _down_ until he had his face nestled in the damp fabric at the base of Darmas’ cock. It didn’t smell great, but then, he didn’t really have anything left in him to care.

Darmas’ nails dug into the side of his face, perilously close to his gills, and he swore a blue streak as his cock twitched inside Teo’s sensitive throat. If Teo could have, he’d have smiled. Instead, he just drew upwards, breathed, and sank back...

For a few minutes, there was blissful silence in his brain. Nothing but slow, sticky pleasure, bobbing his head up and down, setting a pace that would have made a Jedi lose their temper. The heat of Darmas’ cock went down his throat, and then out, and then down, and it filled him up so good. Teo wasn’t sure if he was more pleased that he was doing well, or that he was making Darmas squirm. At a certain point, they became one and the same; this was why he loved giving oral, the moment when dominant or submissive urges became irrelevant and the only thing left was taking care of his partner.

“Faster, darling,” Darmas said, his confident voice cracking with strain. “Or there will be consequences.”

Annoyance curled in Teo’s chest right where contented warmth had been a second ago, and he narrowed his eyes. Consequences? Really? As if this entire dalliance wasn’t a punishment for getting his crew shot up, as if Darmas had any authority over him. As though he had no idea what he was doing here.

Pretending to oblige, Teo held his breath entirely and sank down faster this time. He bobbed up and down once, twice, three times, and then accidentally-on-purpose allowed himself to gag and choke, drooling out into Darmas’ lap as his tongue failed to cover his predator-sharp bottom teeth.

Sharp teeth dragged against sensitive skin as Teo gasped for air, letting tears fill his eyes, fighting the urge to pull back but not quite fighting hard enough to keep his teeth covered.

With an ungainly noise, Darmas shoved him backwards. His hand went from Teo’s jaw to his scalp, barely grazing one of his tresses as Teo sat back on his knees and panted out of his mouth, shaky and self-satisfied. Through the haze of tears Teo saw a calculated, disgusted anger blaze across Darmas’ face like lightning.

Then his hand flashed out and struck Teo across the face. Hard. Not a playful bedroom slap- it was open-handed, but Darmas hit him like it was a fight. Like he hated him.

Teo went crashing to the floor.

He shuddered for a few moments of shocked silence, his breath knocked out of him with the surprise of the blow. The little air he managed to drag into his lungs came out as a low moan. Trapped against the rough carpet, his cock pulsed, wet and aching.

 _That_ was what he needed.

“Teonine,” Darmas said, standing above him, “I did say there would be consequences.”

A big hand wrapped around his upper arm, dragging him. Teo found his half-limp body being pulled toward the couch, and tried to struggle in that direction, working with Darmas instead of against him. The shock of the hit to his face- right to the meat of his cheek, where it would only bruise if he was unlucky- had him moving in stuttering bursts, leaning into the warmth of Darmas’ body.

He got up on his knees again, and then went with the pressure as he was lifted, splayed across Darmas’ lap. The leather of the couch was cold and sticky against his chest, his cheek when he laid his face down. The only warmth left in the world was in Darmas’ lap, hard cock pressing into the hollow of his hipbone, his own wet and leaking cock pressed against Darmas’ still-clothed thigh. Teo hoped it left spots, that it utterly ruined those pants; it would serve Darmas right.

“Now,” Darmas said with a gust of breath that told Teo he was trying to stop panting, “you’re going to lie there and think about what you did, and I’m going to hit you until you apologize. Do you understand me, Teonine?”

Teo tried to kick him. Darmas responded by grabbing both of his wrists, twisting them at the small of his back until they hurt, until Teo let out a gasping grunt of pain as he rocked his hips against Darmas’ leg.

“ _Teonine,”_ Darmas said, almost growling, “I said, do you understand me?”

Determined not to give him what he wanted, Teo rutted his cock against Darmas’ thigh, taking his pleasure where he could get it. He whined out loud, needful and pleading, but some primally angry part of him wanted to tell Darmas to go to hell.

An open-handed _crack_ landed against his ass. It took a moment for Teo to register the pain, and he wriggled harder in Darmas’ grip, still refusing to respond. Another hit, and then another, and then they were coming so fast that he couldn’t even rock anymore, until the blows were pushing his cock against the mess he was leaving on Darmas’ pants, until the pain was sparking up his spine and he was moaning with the humiliated pleasure of it. Taking a spanking like a little kid who’d broken a dish, splayed out over the knee of someone he didn't respect and barely even liked- the whole purpose was to rub his nose in his mistakes, but fuck, it felt good in the worst way imaginable.

The blows paused. Teo caught his breath, writhing like a caught fish and gasping for air when the sensitive underside of his cock slid against the rough fabric underneath him. His ass felt hot and sore, and all he wanted was for Darmas to just keep hitting him until he came or started to cry.

“What are you-” Teo tried to demand, but his voice was so strained that it came out with a begging petulance, muffled against the couch cushions.

“I suppose if you don’t respond to punishment,” Darmas said, his hand still holding Teo’s arms at the small of his back, “I can provide other leverage. This ends when you tell me you’re sorry, Teonine. Remember that.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Teo half-sobbed, arching his back with a vengeance. The back of his throat hurt. The comm silence after Corso had been shot rang in his memory like an indictment.

Callused heat spread his ass apart, Darmas’ fingers splaying him open to cold air and trailing a teasing touch right across his hole. Teo whimpered. His tresses shifted across his back, futile twitches that would have been a symphony of movement in water.

Another smack against the backs of his spread thighs, one for each, made Teo’s breathing stutter. The pain and the ghost of a touch over his hole made him realize how empty he felt, aching everywhere from his cock to his belly to his spine. Every hit felt like it echoed through his pleasure-dazed body, highlighting his need to be filled.

Something slick and cold drizzled down over his entrance, shocking him with its suddenness, and Teo bucked as Darmas’ fingers rubbed it into his skin, the very slight give as his body twitched and clenched.

“Pl-” He caught himself just before he begged, grinding his teeth together to shut the words inside.

“Apologize,” Darmas said, his voice now dead calm. “And I’ll fuck you.”

Behind gritted teeth, Teo whined with need. The tease of Darmas’ fingers was too much- they weren’t even inside him, just rubbing the now-warm oil into the cleft of his ass. A fingertip breached him, gentle and slow, and the stretch felt so good that Teo sighed.

Darmas’ hand withdrew, and slapped him again. All the air shuddered out of Teo’s lungs.

The fingertip came back to his hole, opening him up a little more roughly than the tease of the first touch, stretching him slow and easy. Darmas’ off-hand slapped his ass again, and Teo clenched around the fingertip with a moan.

“So _responsive,_ Teonine,” Darmas said with a mocking laugh, a second finger teasing the rim of his hole and making him shiver with sensation. “One would almost think you were ready to do as you’re told.”

Teo managed a half-rebellious groan as he shifted his hips, rutting his cock against the slick puddle he’d left on Darmas’ thigh. The second fingertip teased the sensitive ring of flesh stretched around Darmas’ first finger, the very tip of a nail dragging against him and making Teo whine as he squirmed.

The second finger entered him quicker than the first, the momentary burn and stretch so good after the tease. Teo rubbed his face against the cool leather, his breathing heavy. It was good it was good it was good he just needed more of that, just a little more-

Darmas’ fingers withdrew, and just as Teo gasped at the loss, his hand cracked down again. Teo focused on trying to breathe, little panting noises escaping him as Darmas hit him again and again, open-handed slaps thick and echoing through his whole body. God, he hoped he was sore in the morning, hoped this pain lasted long enough to teach him a fucking lesson about paying attention and taking care of his people.

The uncounted hits stopped too soon, and Darmas’ fingers were teasing him again, slick with some kind of oil and slipping inside him with an amused sort of calm. Two fingers stretched him, and Teo lay limp, getting used to the burn of it, the heat of being filled. Despite the ache of the muscle as he was spread wider and wider- a third finger now- Teo’s body ached for more. There was an insane desire for Darmas to just fuck him half-prepared, let the pain be more punishment and take the bleeding and soreness for the lesson they were.

“Please,” Teo moaned, finally letting go, “ _please.”_

“That’s sweet,” Darmas said, crooking his fingers in exactly the wrong place, and Teo wriggled in his grasp. “But you know what you need to say, Teonine. You’re not _that_ stupid.”

Teo jerked with the humiliation of how much he enjoyed the insult. Something in him was screaming for that, to be told exactly how worthless and _dumb_ he was for every mistake he made on this damn job. He clenched his teeth and whined again, trying to grind his cock against Darmas’ lap again, and got pinned in place by Darmas’ off-hand for his trouble.

“I don’t think so,” Darmas said, and took his fingers away to hit him some more. Teo cried out, the noise wavering as the back of his throat ached with the need to start sobbing with grief and guilt.

He was sorry, he _was._ He was just too stubborn to say it. (Not actually sorry for biting Darmas, he could give a fuck. But sorry for getting Corso shot. For that betrayal of his best friend.) Shuddering, he took a blazing blow across the backs of his thighs with a grieving wail. His body shook with sobs.

The spanking stopped. Darmas’ fingers, newly dripping, found him again and stretched him wide, filling him up, but it wasn’t enough, and he just needed so bad-

“I’m sorry,” Teo moaned, tears spilling down his face, “I’m _sorry,_ please, just- please-”

It was a huge, awful relief. Darmas’ fingers stilled inside him.

“Good boy, Teonine,” Darmas said, stroking rough pressure over the sweet spot inside him like he was rubbing a dog’s nose in its mess, “good boy. Good.”

Teo went limp. He was shivering, weak, splayed out over Darmas’ lap and unable to move. The wet heat inside him, four fingers stretching him wide, was the center of his whole world. The praise went straight to his cock, and he could feel it leaking. He was close, but he didn’t give a damn, stewing in his guilt and shame.

“Up, Teonine, up,” Darmas said, withdrawing his fingers. Teo moaned, sobbing and shaking his head, but slowly he managed to let Darmas pull him up onto his knees, allowed his weak body to be arranged- facing the wall, forearms braced against the cheap paint, his chest supported by the back of the couch so he didn’t have to balance. His thighs shook, and the only thing that kept him from shattering was that he could still feel Darmas behind him, big hands gripping his hips.

“There, just like that,” Darmas soothed him, stroking up the curve of his waist. Teo arched his back, sinuous, like a dancer at a pole. He heard Darmas’ breath shudder in response, and some corner of his brain managed to be pleased that he’d affected the old card sharp. “Good- good boy, good boy, Teonine, just relax, just-”

The head of Darmas’ cock pressed against him, and more tears spilled down his face as Teo made an unholy noise of relief and longing. It felt _so_ good, stretching him wide, scratching that ache between his hips that was unscratchable by fingers or toys. His tresses twitched along his back, searching for something to latch onto, but Darmas kept him at arm’s length, rocking slowly, slowly inside until he was seated. The pressure made sweat break out along his back, even though he was cold as hell.

“Please!” Teo cried out, fist pounding against the wall, “Please, fuck, I’m sorry- right there- god I need it so fucking bad, please just- I’m _sorry-”_ Now that he’d let it out, he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Just like that,” Darmas gasped, and Teo could feel his hands shaking as he thrust home. Teo was a little shocked by how long he’d lasted, hard like that with Teo splayed over his lap.

Teo shook and cried, moaning like he was getting paid for it as his mouth ran without his permission. “Please- please fuck me, please- there, there, there- ohfuck yes- please- I’m sorry- please- give it to me- I’m sorry I’m so _fucking_ sorry please-”

Darmas slapped his ass, hard, and Teo rocked forward, keening as he fastened his teeth to his forearm. Pressure right on his sweet spot as Darmas fucked him, a one-two-three burst of frenzied thrusts, and he panted into his own skin as his eyes clenched shut and his cock jerked, leaking and drooling as he spent all over Darmas’ couch.

 _I hope the upholstery’s fucking ruined,_ Teo thought, limp and dazed as Darmas grunted, thrust home, and finished inside him.

Darmas panted a few times, hands still on his hips but otherwise at arm’s length from Teo’s body, and gave a soft laugh. He patted Teo’s hipbone, and drew away. Teo listed to the side and watched him, hissing as he eased the condom off and tied it, throwing it carelessly towards the trash can at the other end of the sofa.

Teo felt and heard static, not sure if it was real or just his imagination. He licked his dry lips, trying to adjust himself on the couch in such a way that he wasn’t lying in his own mess. It was hard; Nautolans were famous the galaxy over for being a wet, messy fuck. Sometimes he hated his fucking species. Spent and limp, his cock was slowly retracting, and he tucked himself away in his folds with quiet shame.

His eyes refocused when Darmas appeared in front of him. In one hand, the card sharp held a pile of clothes- Teo’s clothes. He set them down on the end-table, within Teo’s reach. In the other hand he held a shot glass, full of whiskey. He handed that to Teo.

Grateful that it wasn’t an entire drink, Teo downed it in one gulp.

Laughing, Darmas handed him something from the pile of clothes. A microfiber cloth. Teo nodded in gratitude, not ready to speak yet, and wiped off his belly and thighs where he’d writhed around in his own mess on Darmas’ lap. Glancing up, he grinned to himself when he saw the wet patch he’d left on Darmas’ unbuttoned pants- it stretched from Darmas’ crotch all the way down to his left knee, like he’d pissed himself. It was funny.

“Are you alright, Teonine?” Darmas asked him, voice hovering between flippant and sincere as though he could go either way at Teo’s preference. “If you need anything....”

Teo looked up at him with a steely glare in his deep black eyes, baring his teeth.

Plucking the shot glass from his fingers, Darmas retreated. “My mistake.”

Grabbing his clothes from the pile took too much effort, but Teo managed, shirt pulled on over his sticky chest and his pants zipped up- he realized he’d forgotten his underwear at the bottom of the pile, and shrugged, stuffing it in his pocket. He’d gone commando often enough in his life.

 _"If you need anything..."_ Teo murmured to himself in a mocking pitch, adjusting his shirt over his damp chest. He sauntered over to the bar again in his socks, stepping into his boots where he’d left them, trying to remember how to walk with confidence when he was still shaking and his ass was smarting in every way possible. “Honestly. What kind of man do you think I am, Darmas?” He asked, keeping his voice light, like it was a joke, like there wasn't a bitter anger smoldering under his ribs.

“The kind that never stays, Captain,” Darmas raised his glass from behind the bar, drinking deep. “I trust you can see yourself out.”

Teo nodded, tied his boots, and walked out. He fixed his coat over his shoulders, the comm a heavy, swinging weight at his right side- which was blinking a little in the lining of his pocket, but he figured he could ignore it for a minute.

The bright neon lights of the main room hit him like a slap to the face, and he closed his eyes as he walked the first couple of yards in. Too much flashing. He was going to outlaw flashing lights, once he ruled the Universe. He squinted and blinked his big black eyes open as he walked towards the main bar and the exit, passing empty booths on either side.

 _That_ booth wasn’t empty. That one had some miserable drunk in it that looked an awful lot like-

“Corso!” Teo jumped halfway out of his skin with shock. Risha was supposed to take the farmboy back to the fucking ship, what the hell did she think she was doing leaving an injured crewman in a cantina booth?

Big brown eyes flickered open, dazed. His pupils were dilated wide open, and Teo had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just the lack of light on this end of the cantina.

“Heey, Captain,” Corso drawled, his head sinking onto one shoulder. “You’re okay,”

He didn’t say it like a question. He said it like he was trying to convince himself that Teo was real, which sounded like an effect of the insanely strong, _very_ illegal painkillers that Risha had slipped him. “Yeah,” he said, putting a knee on the end of the booth’s seat so he could reach out to pull his high-ass farmboy out of the booth. “I’m okay. What are you doing here? Risha was supposed to take you back to the ship.”

Corso’s big, warm hand clasped around his with a strong grip, and Teo hauled him up and out despite his own shaky legs. He draped Corso’s arm over his shoulders, holding him up, and he was so warm that Teo stopped considering how big of a drink Corso owed him for carrying him out of a cantina. The body heat felt like payment enough.

“Th- the client showed,” Corso said, only sort of coherent. He drooped onto Teo’s shoulder, his dreads mingling with Teo’s tresses. “She had stuff to do. M’alright.”

“You sure sound alright,” Teo noted dryly. Walking slow, he made sure that Corso’s legs could keep up with him as they moved into the brighter-lit area near the bar. His eyes hurt, adjusting to the neon lights, and through his squinting, he saw a Mirialan boy behind the bar eyeing him with Corso, clearly skeptical of some guy carrying off a patron who was visibly unable to stand.

“S’better now you’re here, Cap’n,” Corso slurred, loud as hell right next to Teo’s ear, and the Mirialan kid nodded when he overheard, tension leaving his glittery green shoulders.

Teo whistled through his teeth as they passed the bar, two sharp notes, and flicked a credit chit at the kid when he looked up. “Thanks,” he said with a nod. A tip for their trouble- and for having enough decency to be concerned when somebody was carrying their customers off. The kid caught it, and smiled at him.

“Why’s Darmas even keep those boy dancers?” Corso wondered out loud as they wedged through the door, and Teo wasn’t even gonna dignify that with a response given that his ass was still smarting.

He took a shaky breath, hoisting Corso onto his shoulder and starting the two-block walk to the taxi stop. He was fine. His legs were _not_ going to give out, he just felt off-balance because of the sex. The Coruscant smog made all the lights in the distance hazy, made the speeder traffic overhead look farther away than it really was. The path was narrow, and through the gaps Teo could see the thousand-story buildings stretching forever both above them and below.

They staggered along like two drunks in a three-legged race. Teo had started out with Corso’s arm a heavy weight across his tresses, which hurt, but as they squirmed, Corso pulled and shifted until his arm was underneath them, nestled warm and comfortable under a few dozen tendrils that curled around his skin in a friendly way. Corso’s head swiveled as he kept a lookout and took in the sights; no matter how many times they ended up here, he never did lose that farmboy wonder at the city planet.

“Nice night out,” he remarked as he turned to watch an Ithorian go by, deceptively coherent as his ankle turned and Teo grunted with the effort of keeping them from falling over.

“It’s Coruscant,” Teo said, mystified by the optimism when the air was so thick with exhaust that he could taste oil on the back of his tongue. “You really think there’s such a thing as a nice night out on _Coruscant?”_

“Just makin’ conversation, Cap’n.”

Teo snorted, trying not to laugh too hard because they’d both go flying. Corso’s country manners and polite enthusiasm always made him laugh. It was one of the few things he genuinely treasured in life.

He was still smiling as his arm wrapped tighter around Corso’s waist, keeping their bodies close together as they walked the pedestrian paths strung up between hundred-mile-high skyscrapers and lanes of constantly flowing traffic that threaded in between them. Despite the struggle, it was nice. Corso was warm and solid, and as much as he was leaning on Teo, Teo actually felt like the weight around his shoulders was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. The tips of his _ahwey_ stroked along Corso’s skin in gratitude.

It was too easy to freak out after something like this, after he made a mistake and forced himself to be punished for it. For once in his life, Teo was grateful not to be alone.

Which was strange. Being alone had always been the safest, easiest thing. He reveled in it. But Corso was just easy to be around.

They rounded the corner to the next block, Teo steering his cargo with care so they didn’t hit any other pedestrians, and Corso shuffled along, workboots skidding on the cracked duracrete. Nobody gave them a second glance; Coruscant people saw dozens of weirder things before breakfast.

“Credit f’yer thoughts, Cap’n,” Corso offered, sounding dizzy. His head was still bobbing like he couldn’t quite keep upright, and even with how much Teo appreciated not being left alone to dwell on his punishment, he was very ready to put the farmboy to bed.

He deserved the rest, especially after Teo had gotten him shot.

“Just want to get home to my _Open Ocean,”_ Teo said, grabbing Corso’s hand to pull his arm further across his shoulder, shifting his weight where it was making Teo’s back sore. “She’ll be happy to see me.”

Corso squeezed his fingers. He lolled his head to see that they were getting closer to the taxi station, the droid reciting pickup and dropoff points, and slowed down. Teo tried to tug him along, but he planted his one good foot, keeping them from mingling with the crowd of people merging towards the taxis.

“Teo,” he said, his voice soft. “You okay?”

Cold dread settled in Teo’s stomach, and his shoulders tensed under Corso’s arm. One of his _ahwey_ curled all the way around Corso’s bicep. “I’m fine.” It came out more terse than he meant it to be.

“Hey,” Corso said, quiet and calm like he was trying to settle a frightened animal, “lookit me. Please,”

Teo turned. Corso’s arm around his back shifted into a leaning grasp on his shoulder, and Teo looked into those big brown eyes. A helpless, watery weakness in the pit of his belly made him shiver, made him shift his gaze away and look down at the ground. He was intensely self-conscious of the heat writhing under his skin, the pain in his ass and thighs, the leftover arousal swirling in his gut.

“ _Teo,”_ Corso said, pleading.

“What?” Teo snapped. His face pinched up and he stared hard at the ground, unable to look Corso in the eye like a real man. He hated this. It wasn’t even part of his punishment anymore, he was supposed to be done having his nose rubbed in his own weakness.

He made the mistake of glancing up, looking Corso straight in the face. They were close- if Teo tilted his chin up, they’d have touched noses. Every time he breathed in, he could smell Corso’s skin, the pheromones in his scent mixing with the smell of woodsmoke and blaster fire on his clothes.

His tresses twitched, hard.

Deep brown eyes stared down at him, painfully compassionate. Corso looked confused and hurt and sad, still leaning most of his weight on Teo as his dilated eyes blinked and squinted. His teeth fastened to his plush bottom lip, and he swayed, putting his off-hand on Teo’s other shoulder.

“Ain’t your fault,” Corso mumbled, sounding pitiful.

“What?” Caught off-balance, Teo let them both sway as he put his hands on Corso’s wrists, trying to keep them steady.

“That I got shot,” Corso clarified, “that the mission got all- all fucked up. It ain’t your fault. You don’t have to be sorry.”

Teo swallowed, hard. His multiple heartbeats harmonized in a way that he could feel pounding through his whole body: his lungs, his hands wrapped around Corso’s strong forearms, the slow-forming bruises where Darmas had grabbed his hips.

“I had the capacity for success, and I chose not to exercise it.”

The phrase fell out of his mouth, and Teo widened his eyes with surprise. He hadn’t said that in years- it was what his mother used to make him repeat to her over and over when he fucked something up, a math test or fencing competition or some fancy recital. He’d mostly forgotten the phrase over the last twelve years, but apparently it still lived in the back of his mind, ready to jump out of his mouth at unexpected moments.

Corso looked just as confused as he was, and he shook it off like a ronto twitching flies off its back. “No. It was an accident. It weren’t your fault and you- you don’t gotta be sorry.” His voice was thick as he shook Teo, just a little, hands on his shoulders urging him forward and back as Teo fought to keep them both on their feet.

Teo held his breath. There was a sob in his chest, building up, and he was determined not to let it out. He focused on the pressure, holding strong, not letting himself breathe as footsteps passed them by and gray spots grew in his vision. He focused on Corso’s big, warm hands on his shoulders, that felt like they were holding him together.

He swallowed hard, let the sob die out in his chest, and took a deep, shaky breath.

“‘S okay,” Corso said, pulling him in close. “‘Sokay. Ain’t your fault. I got stupid. Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Crushing his nose against his best friend’s shoulder, Teo told himself this was okay. It was okay to take comfort in this, okay to let this make him feel better. It wasn’t wrong to relish the comfort that Corso just exuded like an aura, the easy, earthy compassion that made everyone around him feel at home. It was okay to just breathe, soak up the warmth in Corso’s arms, and let himself go back to being the Captain a little later than he planned.

 _I love you,_ he thought, shocking himself so badly that he pushed Corso away- and then realized that the injured farmboy had no goddamn balance, and had to dive to catch him again.

The sudden commotion got a couple onlookers to turn as Teo swore, grabbing Corso’s arms and trying to get under his bad side and also trying to keep from falling over his damn self, ending up in a stupid tangle with himself on one knee, Corso with his legs crumpled up in a heap. Grunting with the exertion and frustration, Teo gritted his teeth with the desperate desire to hit something.

Corso, bless that man, threw his head back and laughed.

“Ain’t we a sight, Captain?” He asked, beaming, as Teo hoisted him up again. “Ain’t we somethin’.”

Swallowing hard and wishing for water, Teo tried to ignore the sensation that a light had just been turned on inside him, lighting up a whole set of rooms he hadn’t even known were living, empty, inside his heart.

“Ain’t we just,” he said instead, struggling his farmboy towards the taxis.

* * *

Teo sank down in his captain’s chair, toting a water bottle and an enormous headache.

Pouring Corso into bed hadn’t taken that long. By the time they made it to the ship, he’d been more asleep than awake. Teo had just dumped him in the bunk and closed his little privacy curtain, hoping the poor farmboy didn’t have too bad of a hangover when he woke up. Teo was starting to- the whiskey from earlier hadn’t been enough to get him drunk, but it had affected him enough to set up a drumbeat behind his eyes as it wore off.

Or maybe the headache was from the whole damn situation.

He sank back. This plush chair had used to be Eden’s throne, his mentor splayed out with her lekku draped across the arm-rests as she gave orders to her crew in a thick, smug Ryloth drawl, and she’d made sure her pink ass was resting on the nicest chair her ill-gotten money could buy. With her retired, it was him in the nice soft chair that meant he made every decision for every being on this boat.

Teo uncapped his water bottle and drank, annoyed with himself.

Absolutely nothing he’d done, since rolling out of bed that morning, had been remotely right. He’d fucked up the job. He’d gotten Corso _shot_. He abandoned his best friend in a rowdy cantina to go fuck around with a guy he barely knew.

And then, apparently, he picked the worst possible time to have a god damn love epiphany, like a swooning holovid character.

Eyeing the water bottle, Teo really wished it was alcohol as he swigged more of it back. He’d looked at the “medicinal” vodka in the back of the pantry when he swung by the kitchen, but the last thing he’d used it for was sterilizing a stab wound and he really didn’t feel like drinking it straight, so he left it alone.

He absolutely wasn’t about to touch the beer he hid in the vents in his room- those were for special occasions _only_ and like Hell was he going to reward himself for all his mistakes today. Ditto for the four different caches of homemade mead, cider, and wine that he had fermenting in hidden compartments all around the ship.

So he wasn’t gonna get drunk. And while he had a cache of stims, stashed artfully in the underside of his bedside table, he didn’t have nearly enough work to get done to justify taking them. So no altered state of mind at all for Teo. Just sitting here in his nice soft chair, drinking water, stewing in the fact that he was in love with his best friend.

How had he missed this?

Teo drummed his fingers on the chair. First meeting Corso on Ord Mantell, yeah, he’d seen that the farmboy was pretty and well-built. He’d made some comment to Viidu about it. Some offhand flirtation that Viidu met with a lecture on how Ord Mantell was just a very _particular_ kind of planet, where men were men and women were women and that was about the point at which Teo stopped listening. He got the gist. Farmboy would not like being flirted with by another boy. Might shoot at innocent freighter captains to protect his weird concept of masculinity.

That was born out when Teo watched him shoot a half-grown, surrendering Separatist kid in the eye for no reason, and it was cemented in his head that Corso was not for flirting with.

He was dependable, though. An excellent shot. Fearless, and crazy, and full of a bubbling joy that overflowed in cheerful smiles and laughter on the battlefield. Shockingly innocent, given he’d been some kind of soldier since he was a young teenager and been paying his bills by shooting people his whole adult life.

And apparently- Teo rolled the thought around in his brain like taking a cheese grater to his skin- somewhere along the line Teo had fallen in love.

Where the fuck had he gotten the stupid inclination to do that. Now he was gonna fuck up the best thing he had in his life, the person who had single-handedly made his ship into a home, who had his back no matter-

Three gentle knocks on the door to the cockpit had Teo whirling upright where he was lounging in the chair, the water bottle flying to the floor.

“Shit!”

“That how you greet a lady, Captain?” Risha peeked her head around the door, smug smile playing around her smudged-lipstick mouth.

“Get bent,” Teo offered, reclining again and trying to make his hearts stay where they were instead of beating out of his chest. After months of tension over the whole ‘stowing away in his ship’ thing, he and Risha had formed a functioning relationship based mostly around insults and credits. It was fragile, and it was something he tentatively enjoyed building. But he was not in the damn mood, and he hoped she could tell.

She quirked her head like a predator smelling blood. Her sharp brown eyes caught on his rumpled clothes, the water bottle, fuck-all knew what else.

“You found-”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know you were leaving him there,” Teo interrupted, sensing what she was about to say and pouncing on it to gain a high moral ground from which he could be asked no embarrassing questions. “Alone, with your illegal painkillers-”

“They are not _technically_ illegal-”

“- and _one_ bartender checking on him,” Teo finished over her protests, fully equipped with ammunition given how Corso had rambled incoherently about the Mirialan kid at the bar. “That’s the best way to treat an injured crew member, fuck you very much.”

Risha froze, her eyes flicking downwards. She seemed to get the message that he wasn’t in the mood for friendly banter, and shut her mouth with an audible _click._

"And, if you don't want to be _on_ my crew- just sit your ass on my ship and eat my food and sleep in my bunkroom,” Teo continued with his bitter rant, still annoyed that Risha wanted to use him for a pack-mule for her treasure hunt with no intention of sticking around after she got her share, “the least you can do is treat the people who _are_ on my crew with respect, seeing as you're a glorified passenger who isn't even paying me."

He let that hang for a minute, the silence ringing, and watched Risha try to control her reaction.

Clearing her throat, she readjusted, shuffling her shoulders like she was soothing her ruffled feathers back into place. She let the criticism sail past her with a tight smile.

“I sold the deal,” she informed him archly, “don’t ask me how. We can set a course for Nar Shaddaa in the morning.”

“Swell.” Teo folded his arms over his chest.

“I’ll just go back to being the only one who accomplishes anything around here, and leave you to get your brooding done.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Teo sighed as he settled back down into the chair. “May as well be me.”

He stopped looking at her, and heard her turn to go. Just barely, he heard her murmur a regretful, “sorry,” like she’d dropped it without meaning to.

Teo shut his eyes. His head still hurt. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to punch somebody, preferably himself.

He glanced down, and found that his briefs were still hanging halfway out of his coat pocket, making him look like a whore who’d had to climb out the window when the wife came home. So _that_ was what Risha had been staring at. Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling, wanting to laugh at the miserable absurdity of it all.

“Shit,” he sighed, “oh, shit.”

* * *

Teo’s comm dinged, and he shook himself awake.

He’d ended up falling asleep in the Captain’s chair, not for the first time in his life and definitely not the last. It wasn’t as nice when they were still anchored, no stars to look at, but he was tired and the chair was comfy and he hadn’t deserved his bed.

He rustled the comm out of his pocket, annoyed with himself for tangling himself up in the coat to keep warm, and checked. There were the messages from Risha, hurried explanations that she’d left Corso in the cantina to wait for him. And there was the new ping from Bowdaar- the Wookiee was back from the supply run and had the cargo strapped down for takeoff, so they were good to leave Coruscant in their space dust.

Stretching, Teo settled himself upright and reached for the control board, imagining _Open Ocean_ perking up at his brushing touch. Gods, he adored this ship. She purred under his hands as he sent off the messages to the docking post to unhook them from the fuel and water lines, to Coruscant air-traffic control putting them in the takeoff queue. He inputted their destination, doing the math on how long it would take them to get to Nar Shaddaa, and when the all-clear was sounded, he took his best girl’s feet off the ground and pulled her up into the sky where she belonged.

The sun was rising on Coruscant, skyscrapers glittering, the smog temporarily shot through with light. It turned the sky fiery shades of gold and flushing pink, and Teo held his breath with delight as _Open Ocean_ ’s controls moved sinuously under his capable hands. They were up and inside that beautiful sky within moments, shooting away from the neon pollution, and Teo’s head-and-heartache disappeared for long enough to rejoice in the open air.

The queue was almost empty, leaving the gorgeous sunrise for them and one or two other ships to enjoy; it was the fastest he’d ever managed to leave Coruscant, which suited Teo just fine. He kept them moving slow so that they could coast through the three checkpoints, forged documents ready to ping through the auto-security, and with a one-two-three- _ding!_ they were out of Coruscant’s atmosphere and into the blackness of space, sailing past the last marker where it was clear for them to jump into hyperspace. Coaxing her out with gentle hands, Teo pushed his girl towards the stars.

Teo inputted the sequence by memory, not even looking at the buttons as _Open Ocean_ hummed in response to his touch. She moved with him, her engines building to a crashing roar- Teo stopped breathing for a glorious second as he circled the very last button in the sequence, tipping her over-

And the stars moved into a beautiful blur as _Open Ocean_ rushed into hyperspace, streaks of light dazzling him as his ship rumbled under his hands.

Swallowing, Teo let his big black eyes soak up the starlight as his hands spread out on her warm console. He loved her so much; he used to think it was the only kind of love he was capable of.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing his hands across _Open Ocean_ ’s command module with easy adoration. “That’s my good girl.”

But he stood up, parting from her reluctantly. He still wasn’t wearing underwear, and he hadn’t showered. And he had only slept for a couple hours in the chair, which put a crick in his neck and made his tendrils twine up with irritated pain.

Walking slow, he made his way out of the cockpit and into the darkened main room, glancing back as he turned for his quarters. The lights were off, a holo playing in the center console, and there was a big miserable lump of fluffy blankets on the couch with dreadlocks poking out.

“Hey, Corso,” Teo said, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

The farmboy drawl was muffled under the blanket pile. “Hey, Cap’n.”

Changing could wait. Teo meandered into the living room, absently watching the holo. There were a lot of them he’d never seen before; they’d been on his mother’s extremely long _bad influence_ list when he was growing up. Corso coaxed and teased him into watching them more and more often these days, and it gave him a leftover rebellious thrill, even if they were all pretty insipid. He leaned his hip against the couch.

“Felt the grav-boot kick in,” Corso said, still speaking through what sounded like three layers of blankets. Teo glanced at the back of his head- odd, that Corso hadn’t turned to look at him. “We on our way?”

“Yep,” Teo confirmed, absently patting one of the duvets that reached from one end of the couch to the other. “My best girl’s gonna get us there in record time.”

Corso huffed. “Captain, sometimes I think you love this ship more than you could ever love a woman.” There was a certain implication in his tone that made Teo turn his nose up.

“My love is pure,” Teo replied archly.

“I’m just sayin’,” Corso snorted, “wouldn’t wanna go over this ship with a black-light.”

Teo swatted at the blankets.

“I _will_ kick you,” Corso warned.

“Yeah, you and what leg?” Teo took his coat and boots off and settled on the couch, stealing under the duvet. Ooh, warmth. Space was cold. At this angle, he was at Corso’s back, just enough to poke at the dreads where they were sticking out of the blankets wrapped up to Corso’s nose.

Weird. Usually, Corso glommed onto him, resting his feet over Teo’s lap or arm around his tendrils. Instead, he stayed curled up like that, shoulders tight.

“Don’t remind me.”

They watched in comfortable silence for a bit. Teo could feel it through the movement of the blankets every time that Corso shifted, and heard the quiet stifled noises and hitching breaths whenever he tried to move his injured leg. It seemed hard for him to stay sitting up like that, and Teo wondered if he was in the way, if he should get up and leave Corso alone. He’d probably want to be alone, right? Teo always wanted to be alone when he was in pain.

He was close to getting up and leaving when Corso spoke.

“How long ‘till we get there?”

Teo’s brain whirred into gear. “Well, let’s see,” he searched his memory for the numbers. “We only have to down-shift the hyperlanes once, and the route we’re using is mostly legal, so we can go pretty fast. That new engine Risha got us has an output of one-oh-five, and she’s running pretty smooth. Distance between Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa is usually... what, eighty-two mil at this time of year, right? Give or take? So...”

He ran the numbers in his head, touching his fingers to each other like he used to in school as he pictured the cool calculus of distance divided by approximate hyperspace speed. It was complicated math, but this was much easier than it had been with his tutors, reciting the formulas as his mother watched like a hawk for any mistakes or signs of rebellion. “Say, twelve hours before we have to downshift, a couple hours coasting, and then we get up to the next lane which is about half as fast, so.... fifteen hours there makes? About a day and a half until we dock.”

He blinked. Corso had turned around to stare at him like he’d just revealed that he had fancy Jedi powers.

“What?” Teo asked.

“You did that in your _head?”_ Corso asked, disbelieving.

“It’s just math,” Teo said, snorting. “And it’s not even exact, I didn’t go over the decimal places or anything.”

As if to prove his point, the poindexter-looking character on the holo sniffed and said, “ _I calculate an eighty-three-point-two-four chance of success.”_

Corso cast a judgemental look over his shoulder, brows arched over his big brown eyes. “That’s you, Cap’n. That’s what you sound like.”

“It is _not!”_ Teo was aghast. “I am _not_ a nerd.”

“He said exactly what you just said!” Corso informed him, pointing a finger at his face.

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

“I’m only keeping myself from walloping you one because you’re injured,” Teo explained. “Otherwise I’d smack you.”

For a split-second, there was a hesitation, a creeping blush and a guilty flinch in Corso’s friendly face as he tightened his hand on the blankets wrapped around him, desire and reluctance showing in the clench of his fist.

And then it was gone as he reached out to clumsily punch Teo in the arm with a grin that was just a little too big to be honest.

The blow wasn’t hard and it mostly missed, but even coming from an injured man, Teo couldn’t take that lying down. That was tantamount to mutiny.

He grabbed Corso by the shoulders, pulling him backwards and ruffling his hair, boxing his ears with a shout as they flailed together and sent half the blankets flying. Corso laughed, and then yelped as the movement shifted his leg; he whacked the back of the couch twice, tapping out.

Letting up, Teo used his hands on Corso’s shoulders to steady him. The motion had pulled Corso’s back against his chest, and almost without thinking about it, he pulled Corso’s bound dreads back over his own shoulder as he leaned against the armrest. It was comfortable, being used as a pillow.

Corso elbowed him as he readjusted. “You gotta eat more,” he groused, “your ribs feel like layin’ on a sack full of sticks.” He settled despite his own complaining, scarred cheek resting against the sharp jut of Teo’s collarbone.

“Not my fault your cooking sucks.”

Disbelieving, Teo watched the holo as he carefully snuck one hand around Corso’s belly to hold him close. The nest of blankets enveloped them both in warmth. There was a distant sensation of nervous butterflies in Teo’s stomach, but they were drowned out by easy contentment as Corso relaxed into his chest with a sleepy noise. It was just the simplest thing in the world, holding him, keeping him safe. That was all he had to do right now- as the Captain, as Teonine, as a friend and a partner. Everything was alright, done and paid for.

This being-in-love business was both easier and more complicated than he’d thought.


End file.
